


On The Same Page

by Nisaki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coda, M/M, Memories, Wincest - Freeform, first time after a long time, season 14 ep 10, tags to a lot of eps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-09
Updated: 2019-02-09
Packaged: 2019-10-25 04:54:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17718434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nisaki/pseuds/Nisaki
Summary: Dean's perfect dream is them, together.Coda to Nihilism.





	On The Same Page

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LaughableLament](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughableLament/gifts).



> Happy birthday to you my friend. Words are not enough, I love you to hell and back.  
> This is unbeta-ed so beware the typos.

He wakes up in a black empty space. Endless nothing wherever he cast his eyes. It's not dark, because he can see, but it feels like it is.

Getting up is easier here than it is in reality, and his back hurts only after he thinks about it. It makes sense, his body is not real; Cas had only transported his consciousness here and however he looks or feels is probably  his last memory of himself before he went under. He wanders around, not sure what he's looking for.

Voices start filtering to him. Washed away sounds like a flaky radio station, static that resolves into clear conversations only to flicker again. Sam doesn't know what to follow, too many things come at him at once and he turns around and listens carefully.

Most of them he knows, he remembers. Others feel foreign and he concludes they're things that happened when he wasn't with Dean.  The thought is a bit jarring, he has little memory of anything that isn't around Dean, time without him a blur of thinking about him and wishing he were there. He'd never thought about how Dean had time without Sam around, and it depresses him, as fucked up as it is he doesn't want to imagine a time when they aren't together.

He stays clear of the bad memories, or the ones he thinks are. Michael wouldn't be able to control Dean through trauma and pain, Dean thrives on it. It keep him sharp and ready to fight so he has to be in a happier place.

He walks and light floods him. He's in a huge library, tall shelves surrounds him, endless and he can't see how high up they go. The books are all the same thickness and same colour, but some are older than the rest. Sam steps closer, chooses a book that's just this side of old, not falling apart like some others.

He opens it and the pages shine so bright he's momentarily blinded, forcing him to shut his eyes.

_He's in the impala and it's warmer than he's been in forever. He's dreading their destination, wishes that he had the courage in him to admit to Dean that he wants to stay, that he doesn't ever want to step foot into the lie of a life he has in Palo Alto. The memory of blond locks that smell like honey distracts him, makes him feel less scared of going back but he still stares at Dean's profile and wishes for the words to come out._

_Don't take me back, fight me over this a bit harder._

_At the same time, he wishes for Dean to step on it, return him to his little slice of dream that's so far removed from reality. He wants to be away enough where he wouldn't be able to look at Dean. Look at him and wonder what it would be like to kiss him. Just once, feel those soft lips give under his._

_Dean keeps throwing glances at him from the corner of his eye but Sam can't stop himself, can't turn forward and be normal. It's his last few hours with Dean and he wants to memorize all the little things that changed when he wasn't looking. He wants to lock this new Dean in his head until he get another chance to look. Will he ever get another chance?_

_He opens his mouth, and everything in him is screaming at him to not utter the words but he can't stop it. He keeps thinking that it's the last time he's going to see Dean and he needs to get this out of him forever so he can move on and not look back and wonder. His lips forms the shape of Dean's name and what follows is two words he's wanted to speak forever:_

_''Kiss me,''_

_The screeching of the tires makes him flinch, his body moving forward as the car comes to an abrupt halt and he barely prevents himself from bashing his head into the dashboard. He turns to Dean again, so ready to receive the punch he deserves, ready to ask for it but Dean's piercing gaze kills the words in his throat and makes it hard for him to breathe._

_Dean doesn't say anything, and for the longest moment he does nothing but stare at Sam. Sam's heart is bruising his ribs, feels like it's trying to fight its way out of his chest. Then Dean is leaning in and Sam closes his eyes and everything in the world changes forever as their lips touch._

_It's not a romance movie kiss like his inner fourteen years has imagined, there's nothing sweet about it. Dean grips his hair and yanks his head back, parts his lips with his tongue and eats at his mouth like he has something to prove. Sam lets him, drops his jaw and sucks him deeper inside, wraps his arms around Dean's shoulders and spreads his legs as wide as the space in the car would let him. Dean pushes him back, grinds against him, their dicks hardening as they rub against each other._

_It's filthy, and hurried. A fling in the car. Sam the teenager would've died, but twenty two years old  Sam, sick with longing and so many days without Dean doesn't care if it's cheap or romantic, doesn't care that it's their first time but feels like a quick, guilty thing. He just wants Dean for as long as he could have him, here or anywhere else._

_Dean shoves his hips into him hard, and Sam comes embarrassingly fast but he doesn't stop moving, kisses Dean harder and digs his fingers into Dean's back through the cloth until Dean groans and his hips stutter and he comes too. They only stop kissing then, panting into each other's open mouths._

_Sam risks opening his eyes, and he's hit by the sight that is Dean for the millionth time. Dean has his eyes shut so hard, like he doesn't want to look down and see Sam and suddenly everything floods back and Sam shivers. He can't believe what he let happen, can't believe he put that on Dean. Dean still won't open his eyes so Sam pushes him back and Dean scrambles away, hitting his head on the roof of the car in his hurry._

_He doesn't look at Sam, just stares resolutely ahead at the road and Sam wishes for his heart to just stop already but it keeps thundering in his chest._

_''Sam,'' Dean says ''I'm sorry, I shouldn't have.''_

_The words break something in him but he can't return them. In this situation he should be the one to feel sorry, he should be guilty and ashamed and horrified but he isn't. He's relieved. And it scares him how much he doesn't want to change what happened and how much he only wants to kiss Dean again but he's not cruel enough to ask that of Dean when he knows that it's Dean's sick way of trying to keep him._

_''Take me back,'' Sam says and Dean doesn't reply. Igniting the car; he speeds towards Palo Alto without another glance at Sam._

The memory dissolves, leaving his gasping. He's on his knees and he can barely breathe but he convinces himself that it's an illusion, he doesn't need to breathe here and his chest unclenches. The ghost of that night lingers against his skin. He hadn't thought about it in years, and he doesn't know why he's the one living it when it's Dean's brain, Dean's memories.

He supposes it's his way of dealing here, seeing the memory triggers his own, after all nothing but his thoughts exists in this place. He inhales deeply and stands up again, moving around the library, looking at the books with more weariness. Each of them holds a memory and Sam doesn't know which one to pick. He tries to be rational about it, this isn't real. The arrangement of the library in itself doesn't belong to Dean, it's his way of seeing things in Dean's head. He forces himself to think of another way to sort Dean's past, a more organized way. The books shift around then, and all of them have dates written on their covers now. They are divided into two stalks, black ones with nothing on them that Sam realizes are Dean's times in hell and another part that's light purple. His memories on Earth.

''Where are you Dean?'' He whispers. A loud call of his name answers him, but it's angry and dark. It's Dean's voice, and it's coming from one of the memories. Sam places his hand on the book and closes his eyes, this time determined to _see_ the memory instead of feeling it.

_He recognizes the motel instantly and he closes his eyes and wishes to leave before what he remembers unfolds but he's trapped in there. He opens his eyes and watches as Dean breaks a lamp and screams at him, his other self, the one ten years younger than he is now. The Sam in the memory doesn't flinch, steps close to Dean and snarls at him. He almost feels an echo of the burning rage that consumed him back then, but it's accompanied by deep regret and pain that wasn't there the first time around._

_He watched his past self as he fights Dean, both of them throwing punches and insults at each other. Dean's face crumbles, all the colour draining out of his face as Sam tells him that Dean is holding him back. The next punch turns into an angry kiss, Dean pressing him against the wall and they start undressing like it's the only thing they know how to do._

_Sam turns his back on their former selves, feeling like he's intruding even when it's them. He listen to them moan, catches the hitches in their breaths. There's a desperation in the way Dean says his name, something that he hadn't caught when he was in the moment. He forces himself to turn around and look, sees Dean's pain unmasked as his younger self closes his eyes and misses it. After they're done, Dean hurries out and Sam is sucked out of the room with him._

_Dean drives out of town and shoots beer bottles, then he screams his lungs out and ignores a call from Sam._

_The current Sam knows what happens next. Dean doesn't touch him for so long after that._

*

_Dean is younger in this memory. Not by so many earthly years, but this is definitely before hell got its claws into him and changed him forever. Sam doesn't recognize the motel room right away, mostly because the colours are wrong. The table isn't placed near the window like he remembers but closer to the center. It's a subtle thing, but it's different and Sam smiles. This is Dean's memory, and Dean always sucked at remembering details that weren't important. He doesn't remember the layout of the room, but he remembers Sam perfectly. The clothes on the floor that he himself took off of Sam the night before, the length of his hair. Every small ridiculous detail. The room smells like sex but under it all, Sam can smell the shampoo he used to shower during that year and he flushes._

_This is what the room smelled like to Dean back then. Like Sam._

_Young Dean is straddling a chair that he dragged near the bed, his arms folded on its back and his chin rested over them. He's looking at Sam's sleeping form with fondness that Sam can't remember ever witnessing and it makes his chest tighten with yearning. He's wanted Dean to look at him like that, and now he's seeing it too many years later, because Dean was only this raw and unmasked when Sam is asleep._

_Suddenly, Dean pushes the chair and gets up. He picks the keys and his wallet and heads out. Sam glances at his sleeping self, remembering waking up alone that morning, remembering feeling lonely and now he's going to see where his brother is headed. He wants to find the Dean from his timeline, the Dean Michael is hiding away from him, but he's always so curious and eager to learn more about Dean._

_Dean takes the car, Sam feels strange sitting in the passenger seat without being seen, without Dean annoying him with overly loud music and obnoxious grins. Dean is too focused, he's playing his music at a normal volume and he's singing along but not as out of tone as he does when he knows Sam is around._

_He stops the car in front of a flower shop, of all things, and he walks in with a smile and buys a bouquet of red roses. Twenty four roses to be exact._

_The old lady behind the counter asks him if it's a special day and Dean tells her it's a birthday._

_''Your girl is a lucky one,''_

_Dean laughs at that but he doesn't reply._

_Sam realizes with a startle that it's his birthday. It's his twenty forth birthday and he doesn't remember receiving flowers from Dean on his birthday. He only remembers arguing about his powers, he remembers them having sex after and waking up to an empty bed._

_Dean gets out of the shop, on the way to the car he stops and looks at the roses he's carrying. An ugly laugh leaves his mouth and his face changes into a dark expression. He marches over to a trash can and Sam watches with horror as he violently shoves the bouquet into it._

Like he'd ever want that with you.

_The thought slams into him, strong and crushing and Sam knows it's not his._

_It's Dean's._

_He wants to hold on to the memory but it's vanishing and he can't do anything about it._

He' wakes up crying. He wants to see Dean so bad but he doesn't know where or when to find him. He knocks out another book accidently and he doesn't try to fight it as the light swallows him into another memory.

_''Come on, Dean.'' The voice is his but the inflection isn't. It's provocative in a way he never is, and devoid of feeling. A challenge. Dean is seated on the edge of a bed and Sam has no memory of this place but the man with Dean is undoubtedly him._

_Minus a soul._

_His memories of this year is hazy, he got most of it but some parts evades him still and this is something from that year. The motel room is bigger and cleaner than their usual choices, Soulless him is kneeling in front of Dean, hands on Dean's thighs and he's trying to catch Dean's eyes but Dean keeps avoiding the gaze._

_''I know you want it.''_

_''No.'' Dean's reply is a broken thing, pained and unsure and Soulless's eyes glint. His smile gets too sharp._

_''You never said no before,''_

_''You're not Him!'' Dean yells, gets up and away from Soulless._

_''I am better in bed, I promise you.'' Soulless leers at him. Dean snarls and marches to him, he fists one hand in his hair and leans so close that Sam thinks he might kiss Soulless but he doesn't. Dean's next words are clipped and dangerous:_

_''Drop it.'' He lets go and Soulless laughs at him. Dean ignores him, walks to the bathroom and starts the shower. From out the door soulless is still talking, but the sound of water is covering most of it up and Dean closes his eyes and let it all fade._

_Sam is immediately lunched into another time. This room he does remember and his breath hitches as the helplessness from that awful night crushes over him like no time has passed. He's living this memory, but it's almost like he's stuck inside his old self. He's going through the motions of the memory with his current consciousness and it makes him think about being possessed._

_Dean comes back and Sam looks up at him from where he's seated on the chair._

_''How could you?'' Sam asks, his throat hurts, Sam remembers crying. Dean doesn't answer. Sam gets up so fast the chair falls to the ground behind him, he walks to Dean and they're nose to nose when he repeats his question with more anger ''How could you do this to me when you know how it feels? When you were so messed up over dad doing the same for you!''_

_Dean looks at him with clear eyes, and he doesn't look guilty or sad or regretful. Sam's chest burns with red rage and he throws a punch, Dean doesn't dodge, doesn't even close his eyes, takes it like he knows he deserves it. He starts crying again, pushing and shoving until Dean is laid down on the bed. Sam straddles his hips and starts hitting his fists on Dean's chest._

_It's half hearted, not nearly strong enough to hurt. Sam feels the same helplessness he felt that night but he sees things that he missed in his sadness and anger. He sees how Dean is looking up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes; like just the fact that Sam exists is a miracle and he looks so thankful that Sam wants to stop his past self, change it all and take it back and kiss Dean until both of them can't breathe._

_He does kiss Dean that night, but it isn't gentle. It's bruising and biting, more a fight than a kiss and Dean lets him. He takes the bites and the kisses and doesn't move until Sam breaks down and starts sobbing. Then Dean flips them over and bares them both. He fucks Sam like he's going to war, powerful precise snaps of hips that make Sam lose his grip and fall face first into the mattress. Dean doesn't slow, relentless fucks and shoves and Sam whimpers beneath him. Stretched and aching and helpless._

_Now he can feel Dean's side of that night, the joy of having Sam mixing with the pain of not enough time. Dean's eyes are tearing. Sam couldn't see his face back then but Dean is crying. Silent tears falling down, mixing with the sweat on Sam's back and he wonders how he never felt them back then with how hot they are._

Sam closes his eyes and remembers all the times they pushed each other away, all the times he could've just told Dean what he really wanted and got scared. All the times he wanted love and settled for a night of pleasure. He never knew, but now looking back he can see that Dean wanted him just as much and was just as terrified of asking. Sam has to find him now and hit him on the head and kiss him for the first time in two years.

Kiss him just to kiss him.

The tall, wooden shelves disappear one by one and the place turns into the same endless nothingness he first woke up in.  He strains his ears and listens, voices go and come, static then clear then static again. Dean's laughter makes its way to him and his heart flutters in his chest. Dean sounds so happy.

This is it.

He walks to the sound, light shining at the end of his path and then a myriad of colours bursts into his sight.

He's standing in a bar. The place is clean, wooden floors and simple black stools with red cushions. Behind the bar Dean's cutting limes, a towel on his shoulder and a smile on his face. He's humming a Metallica song under his breath. He looks happy.

Sam is about to make himself known but Dean calls ''Baby!'' and he freezes in his spot.

This is not a memory. It's a dream. A wish of Dean's that Michael had granted him, Sam casts his eyes down, the light catches on Dean's left hand.

A ring.

A lump forms in his throat, makes it impossible for him to swallow or speak, he can barely breathe. He wasted so long in fear, missed so many chances. Years and years. All he had to do was give Dean this and Michael would never have been able to keep him.

''Oh hey, there you are.'' Dean says, voice honey smooth. Sam's eyes snap up, and finds Dean staring right at him.

''Dean,'' he whispers.

''What's wrong, baby?''

He suspected it would be him, the one sharing this with Dean but having it confirmed, having Dean looking at him like that, calling him with a petname is still too much to take in. He half expect someone else to round the corner, for them to put their arms around Dean and smile at him but no one is there but them. He feels the cool of metal on his hand and he looks down to see a matching ring on his left ring finger. He's trembling.

''Sammy?'' Dean sounds worried now. He sets the knife aside and wipes his hands with the towel before he rounds the bar and walks to Sam. He places a gentle, calloused hand on Sam's cheek and carefully lifts Sam's face so he's looking him in the eye.

''You okay?''

Sam nods but his eyes are stinging with tears. He has to get Dean out, that what's he's here for but he wishes he could stay too. Both of them in this reality that Dean had imagined for them, ignoring everything else.

Dean steps closer, cups his face. Sam feels Dean's ring on his cheek and lets out half a laugh half a sob.

''Dean this is not real,'' he breathes. Dean was leaning in to kiss him, and Sam regrets stopping it because this kiss would've felt different and what if Dean doesn't want this in their reality where everything is too eager to fall apart?

''Of course it's real, Sam.'' He smiles, tries to kiss Sam again but Sam moves away. Dean looks hurt.

''Are you mad at me?''

''Dean, no.'' He licks his lips and looks around, he doesn't even know where they're supposed to be. The big writing on the wall proclaims this as ROCKEY'S.

''This is all in your head, Michael is doing this to keep you here.''

''Sammy, Michael is in the cage.''

''None of this is real, Dean. You have to remember, you have to.''

Dean stares at him, the only difference now is that he looks a bit confused.

Sam flashes back to the time when he was the one possessed, and he gets it.

''Poughkeepsie,''

''What did you say?''

''Poughkeepsie.''

Dean's mouth parts, his eyes turn glassy ''I remember.''

 

**

Dean retreats to his room as soon as the Michael fiasco ends. Sam stays behind to deal with Maggie and the rest, and later to catch Jack and Cas up on what happened. It's near four in the morning when Sam heads to Dean's room.

He doesn't knock. Dean is sitting on the edge of his bed, wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Both his elbows are on his knees, he's holding a glass of whiskey in one hand and hiding his face in the other.

''Dean,'' Sam says. It's the start to all of his conversations, even when he's not talking to his brother. Dean doesn't answer, drinks the rest of his whiskey in one gulp and places the empty glass on the nightstand. Sam thinks about sitting beside him, but Dean's body is closed off so he stays where he is, back resting against the closed door.

''What you saw-

''-Sammy, don't.'' Dean's voice is hoarse. He shakes his head, still looking down ''I'm sorry,'' he says at last.

''What are you sorry for?'' Sam whispers, the slump of Dean's shoulders and the defeated sigh he lets out makes him think that he might break if Sam talked allowed.

''Everything. I had no right to that, Sam.''

Sam walks closer, kneels down between Dean's legs and places his hands on his knees ''Look at me, Dean.''

Dean's lashes are wet, the green of his eyes made more brilliant by the glaze of tears. He's looking at Sam like he's ready for Sam to hurt him, like he believes after all of these years Sam would leave him alone in anyway. He has million things to say, so much to explain but what comes out is a breathless ''Kiss me.''

They haven't kissed since their mother got back, no near deaths or big fights pushing them into it and Dean's eyes widen at the words.

''Sammy,''

''Dean, please. Kiss me, kiss me for real.''

Dean surges forward, his hands fist in Sam's hair and he crushes their lips together. Sam whimpers, loses his breath as Dean sweeps his tongue over the seam of his mouth, presses a bit harder then pulls away to nip at Sam's bottom lip. It's the same moves, but it feels different, hotter and more desperate. Urgent, like Dean might die if he stops kissing Sam.

They break apart and look at each other, Sam closes his eyes and tips his head back and Dean complies. Kisses him again, slower, sweeter until it's only chaste brushes of lips. Dean's hold in his hair gentles, his fingers caressing over Sam's cheeks and jaw, his warm hands settling on the sides of his neck.

''Sammy,'' Dean slurs into the kiss, and Sam opens his mouth; takes Dean's tongue in and sucks on it. Dean groans into the kiss, his hands sliding down, holding Sam around the biceps and pulling him in. Dean moves back and Sam follows, gets up without breaking the kiss and climbs onto bed. He ends up straddling Dean, and Dean throws himself back, head on the pillow. Sam arches over him, can't stop kissing him even as they start tugging at each other's clothes.

Clothes rustle as the fall to the ground and Sam sighs at the skin to skin contact as he settles over Dean again. Sam stares down at Dean and smiles, Dean returns it. His hand cups Sam's face and he leans into the touch, planting a peck on Dean's wrist and closing his eyes.

''I've wanted to do this forever,'' he breathes. Dean pulls him down into another kiss then rolls them over, slotting between Sam's legs. Sam spreads them wider and lifts them up, wraps them around Dean's waist and uses the hold to pull him closer. Their noses brush and they laugh, Dean kisses him again.

Sam's lips get swollen and tender, but he keeps kissing Dean. They kiss for so long Sam loses track of time, both of them rutting gently against each other. Finally Dean extends his hand to the drawer in the nightstand and retrieves a bottle of lube.

Dean prepares Sam like he wasn't the one to break him in. Gentle and patient, he soothes him with kisses on his hipbones and belly bottom, drives Sam crazy with how he avoids his prostate on purpose.

Sam doesn't protest, doesn't try to hurry him up, enjoys the sweet torture. He rocks down on Dean's fingers and moans loud, unrestrained. He wants to let it all out, doesn't care if someone hears him.

''God Sammy. Want you so bad,'' Dean says against his thigh, scattering kisses there and sucking bruises to the pale inside of it. Sam writhes, lifts his ass up, whimpers and Dean pulls his fingers out and stretches over Sam. Connects their mouths together as he pushes the head of his cock in.

They've done this before, so many times but Sam feels like it's the first. Not only the first time with Dean, but the first time ever. Like Dean's love filled kisses has wiped the past clean, erased every trace of any other hand on Sam's skin and marked him up for Dean.

He feels complete, all the parts of himself that were Dean's are falling into place, Dean gluing his pieces together with deep thrusts and slow kisses. Dean wounds his arms under Sam's waist and hugs him close, hides his face in Sam's neck and Sam wraps himself around Dean, legs and arms.

They come together, Dean fucking him through it with uncoordinated moves, his cock going soft inside Sam. He collapses over Sam, but when he tries to get up Sam strengthens his hold.

''Stay. Stay, Dean.'' He realizes that he's got tears in his eyes and his voice is wet. Dean lifts his head up and kisses him again.

''Not going anywhere, Sammy. Not ever.''

Sam takes in a shuddering breath, his heart hammering inside his chest, afraid still, afraid of saying the words he'd ached to utter for so long. Instead he says:

''We had rings.''

Dean laughs, he pulls out of Sam and flips over to settle on his back beside him. Sam moans at the loss but Dean sneaks his arm under Sam's head and turns to face him.

''We did,''

Sam wets his lips, his eyes darting between Dean's. Waiting.

''Sam,'' Dean starts ''Sammy,''

''Yeah, Dean?''

Dean blinks, glances down then back into Sam's eyes. He takes Sam's hand in his, threads their fingers together and smiles ''We had rings.'' He echoes and Sam gets it. He grins at Dean.

 

 

-End

**Author's Note:**

> feedback is love. Please leave me some. I'm [Nisaki](https://nisaki-chan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.


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